His soft brown eyes flickered open and met Inyx' s vivid blue ones.
" Lan?" she said hesitantly, unsure of herself, unsure of Lan.
" It' ll be all right. The tongue. It: it' s giving me power I never thought possible. The spells I only half- understood. They' re crystal clear to me now. And more! I see so much more!"
Turning to Rugga, Inyx asked, " What effect will that tongue have on him? When Iron Tongue confronted Claybore, it drove him mad. Because the tongue was once Claybore' s, might that not happen with Lan, also?"
Rugga only shrugged. She was the most potent sorcerer in Wurnna now, but this was far beyond her expertise. Compared with Clayboreand Lan Martak- she was only an apprentice.
" Claybore still remains," pointed out Krek. " From what the skull has said, victory on this world is minor. Should not our attentions be directed elsewhere?"
" Claybore is on this world," Lan said. " I ' feel' him nearby. If he is stopped now, the war is won." He got to his feet with Inyx' s strong arm around his shoulders for support. He tapped into the power stone around him, allowed the tongue to roll in his mouth, he drenched with his saliva, become a part of his body- and soul.
" He still wants the tongue," said warrior captain Jacy Noratumi. " But now we can fight him for it. You can do it, Martak. You can!"
Lan said nothing. He waited, consolidating the power building within, savoring the richness of his senses, the nearness of his own death. When Claybore came, he was ready.
" The tongue!" demanded Claybore.
" Your death," said Lan in a voice so soft it was barely audible. But he did not merely speak, he used the Voice. " I want you to slay yourself. Kill yourself, Claybore. Die, die!" He put all the urgency possible into that command.
And Claybore started to obey.
Only a faint human voice crying out broke the spell and saved Claybore' s quasi- existence.
Claybore trembled all over, shaking down to the mechanical legs bearing him.
" You have my tongue. You shall pay for this insult, Martak. You will wish you had died from my sword!"
Again came the human voice, clearer now, distinct, and belonging to Claybore' s new commander, Kiska k' Adesina.
" All is ready, Master. Hurry. We must go. My mage Patriccan can hold them back no longer. The troops are mutinying."
" I told your bitch," Claybore roared at Lan. " I tell you. This only seems victory for you. On other worlds, I have triumphed. When next we meet, do not think the battle will- be so gentle."
Lan formed the most potent spell he knew and sent the bolt of energy blazing for Claybore. The leading edge of the energy spear wavered for an instant, then found only emptiness.
" Claybore has shifted worlds," moaned Inyx. " He has walked the Road."
" And there aren' t any cenotaphs nearby," said Krek. " I ' see' one within a month' s travel time, and I am not sure where it leads. It might be onto another world, altogether different from the one chosen by Claybore."
" If we don' t hurry and follow him, he' ll regain arms and legs and become too powerful even for you, Lan."
" A cenotaph," mused the young mage. " We can create one out there, on the plain in front of Wurnna."
" I suppose there are some bodies lost, but don' t you need to know the name for the consecration? It' ll take weeks to determine who has died and which corpses are which. Oh, Lan, that' ll take as long as hiking to the cenotaph Krek ' sees.' "
" We think in terms far too narrow. What to us is a hero is to our enemies a villain."
" So?"
" It is true the other way, also. A villain to us is a hero to our enemies."
" I don' t see- no, Lan. You can' t do this. I hate him. I was angry when you denied me the chance to kill him."
" You would consecrate a cenotaph to Alberto Silvain?" asked Krek. " What a novel idea."
" There is more to it than novelty, Krek. Silvain' s fortunes were linked intimately with Claybore' s. Properly done, the cenotaph will continue to join their fortunes- and this world with the one chosen by Claybore. It is the only way we have of finding him among the myriad worlds along the Road."
Lan Martak left them behind to walk slowly to the edge of the black pit he had formed. Into this vortex of darkness Silvain had fallen. The flames of his life had been snuffed out for all eternity and his body irretrievably lost in a fashion not even Lan Martak understood. Perhaps the all- knowing Resident of the Pit might have been able to trace Silvain' s course through the universe, but the Resident resided on Lan' s home world, many worlds away.
Lan' s hand rested on the closed grimoire he carried within his tunic. After a moment' s pause, he knew he had no need to refresh his memory about the summoning spell or the proper method of consecration.
He began the chant, now surprisingly easy when uttered with the tongue that had once belonged to Claybore.
Krek pointed with his long front leg. " The cenotaph opens."
" Silvain," muttered Inyx, remembering the foul deeds Claybore' s commandant had committed. But Lan had been correct. Silvain' s courage in assuming the magical guise given by Claybore to attack an entire city filled with sorcerers had been strong enough to open the pathway between worlds.
" Ready?" asked Lan Martak.
" Is this truly the world where Claybore walks?"
The mage shrugged his shoulders. His powers had grown, but there were some- many- questions he had no answer for.
" Let us leave this fine world behind," said Krek. The spider boldly entered the simple stone cairn, wavered for a moment, and vanished from sight.
Lan Martak took Inyx' s hand, squeezed, and then led the way. They too shimmered as if caught in summer heat, felt the gut- wrenching shift to another world, then came out ready to pursue their adversary.
They walked the Cenotaph Road hand in hand, only to emerge on a windswept, dark plain on a different world. Only rocky expanse and jagged, cloud- crowned black mountains in the distance were visible.
Everywhere there was the smell of: burning.
" Looks like rain," said Inyx, glancing up at the lead- heavy clouds swirling overhead.
" Rain!" cried Krek. " I shall surely die!"
Lan started to laugh, but the laugh turned to a cry of anguish when the first raindrop struck his flesh and it began to char.
CHAPTER TWO
" Claybore attacks!" screamed Krek, his voice carrying the tone of pure anguish. The spider jumped about, rubbing one massive leg against another in a vain attempt to remove the droplets of acid burning through his fur.
" It' s not Claybore' s doing," said Lan Martak, shielding his face from the sporadic raindrops falling from the clouds. He winced as a droplet heavy with acid spattered wetly over his protecting hand and onto his face.
" I burn!"
The spider' s fur had begun to smolder from the falling acid. In his fruitless attempt to avoid the rain, Krek even rolled on the ground. Lan saw instantly that this made it worse. Every spot the rain touched caused the rock to burst into a tiny fountain of flame. Looking out over the barren plain, he saw minute watchfires springing up with greater frequency. When the rain began to pour down in a full storm, the entire world might be set ablaze.
Inyx saw this and said to Lan, " We' ve got to find cover. Left out here, it won' t matter what Claybore can or can' t do to us. The elements will burn or boil us."
Lan closed his eyes and let his mind wander. When he found the dancing light that had become his companion, he enticed it closer, teasing, cajoling, promising. The familiar burst overhead and spread out an umbrella of pure energy to protect the trio from the increasingly vigorous acidfall.